


Perfluorocarbon

by Leticheecopae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens, Drugged Sex, Goo monster, Hallucinations, Liquid Breathing, Monsters, Other, Xenophilia, goo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 15:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: Perfluorocarbon: Any of the various hydrocarbon derivatives in which all hydrogen atoms have been replaced with fluorine and that include blood substitutes used in emulsified form. Can be used for liquid breathing.Liquid Breathing: A form of respiration in which a normally air-breathing organism breathes an oxygen-rich liquid.Bromine: A dark red fuming toxic liquid with a choking, irritating smell that is liquid at room temperature and soluble in water. Causes irritation to the eyes, skin, and respiratory system when encountered in concentrated doses. Can cause nausea, hallucination, and respiratory problems.Lance McClain: Previous pilot of the Blue lion. Current pilot of the Red lion. Is about to learn about all of these things while stranded on an alien planet.





	Perfluorocarbon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stilesstilerstyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilerstyle/gifts).



> Written for the lovely [Jaspurrlock](https://twitter.com/jaspurrlock)! She did a wonderful pic for this that can be found in her upcoming 'Lion's Den' art book!
> 
> Probably one of the stranger summaries I have done, but it felt fitting for this one. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Please note I have not watched the last season of Voltron, so this probably deviates HEAVILY from the canon.

“What do you mean you can’t come and get me!?” 

Rage edges on panic as Lance paces back and forth just inside the cave. Outside, the world is a swirl of brown rain, turning the bluish flora grey in the dim light coming through muddy clouds.

“The storm is too thick. It took forever to figure out which planet you fell on, let alone where you are on it,” Pidge replies, her voice somewhat shaky on the com.

“You can’t leave me down here, it smells awful,” Lance groans. Even after a few hours, he hasn’t gone nose blind, and the rain is just making it worse.

“Well, the water on the planet has high amounts of Bromine, so I don’t doubt it,” Hunk calls, his voice fainter.

“The hell is that? Is it poisonous?” Lance backs away from the entrance of the cave. It isn’t very wide, about ten paces from one end to the other, but it’s dry, and he couldn’t take the stale air inside Red any longer. 

“Not unless you ingest a loooooot of it,” Hunk calls.

“Or breathe in a lot, though it doesn’t look like you’ll have to worry too much about that. The planet’s surface doesn’t get hot enough for there to be much vapor.”

“And if I do have too much?” 

“Then you’ll just get a little sick. Irritable, confused, nauseated—”

“Kinda like when you wake up in the morning,” Hunk calls.

“Oh ha fucking ha you guys,” Lance bites out into his helmet. “How long am I stuck down here?”

“A few hours, I think,” Pidge responds.

“You think?”

“We don’t know enough about the weather patterns on the planet to be sure,” Hunk replies. “Pidge has been running a few scenarios based on what we’ve seen so far, but—”

“The longest you’ll be down there is a half day, tops,” Pidge interrupts. “And that’s the worst case scenario. Once this storm ends, we’ll be able to perform a proper scan.”

“Can’t you just come look for me?” Lance whines. 

“It would take just as much time trying to cross-check the planet’s surface as it would just to wait, and with the lightning strikes, it’s too dangerous.” 

“Lightning strikes?”

“Oh, wait, that part hasn’t hit you yet?” Pidge asks.

“What do you mean ‘that part’? What’s that pa—”

Lance flings himself back into the cave as a blinding light flashes across the sky. In the fraction of a second, there is an explosion of sound that rockets around him and bounces off the stone. His ears ache and ring as he rips off his helmet, trying to get his hands over his ears as spots dance before his eyes. He drops to his knees as another bolt crackles closeby.

“—ce! You okay!?” he hears when he finally lets his hands drop. He blinks away the static in his vision and watches as more bolts hit further out; he barely has time to slap his hands over his ears before the soundwaves reach him.

“I THINK I’M IN THAT PART!” he yells as he gets up. He gently soccer dribbles the helmet further back into the cave. There is a bend a little way in, and as soon as he reaches its murky depths, he drops his hands. Thunder is still echoing around him, but it’s not as bad around the bend. From the ground, he can hear Pidge and Hunk screaming.

“I’m here I’m here,” he gripes out as he picks up his helmet. 

“Oh thank god, I thought you got struck,” Hunk sighs.

“Almost. Struck just outside the cave.”

“I think it might be a good idea to go in a little deeper for now,” Pidge says. “At least until the lightning storm passes. It’s going to be almost constant for you here soon; but hey! On the bright side, I narrowed down where you might be!”

“Yeah, which means?”

“Which means you’re somewhere in a few hundred-thousand-mile long bow-echo of a storm that is more than a thousand miles wide,” Pidge responds. 

“Whoopee,” Lance grumbles as he shuffles over toward the shadow of a rock, fingers fidgeting to turn the lights of his helmet on. They come on, reigniting the static in his vision for a moment as he hisses in annoyance.

“Just sit tight. You brought the emergency kit with you, right?” Hunk asks.

“Yeah, of course I did,” Lance replies, eyes darting to the bend in the cave. He had brought the kit, technically. It was just currently trapped inside Red.

“I mean, you brought it into the cave...right?”

“Of course! I’d have to be a complete idiot to forget to bring—”

“Damn it, why do I even make those things if you guys don’t take them with you!” Hunk yells over the mic.

“What do you mean?”

“You forgot it, Keith forgot it, Allura was just about to forget hers! I’m not going to keep making fresh food for those things if all you’re going to do is let it rot!”

“Sorry, big guy,” Lance says sheepishly. 

“Just don’t bitch to me wh— —u sta—”

“Hunk?”

“—rm is ge—g wo—” he hears Pidge start as the thunder outside goes from staccatos of sound to continuous rolling waves. The back wall of the cave lights up as if it is daylight outside.

“Well shit,” he sighs as he stares at it. His ears are aching again. At least the smell isn’t as bad in here. 

Lance turns the helmet away from the cave’s bend and into the depths. There isn’t much too see, just silvery stalactites leading down into the depths.

“Maybe it’s quieter back there,” Lance mutters to himself as he gets up. He hasn’t seen much life on the planet yet; at least not much in the ways of fauna. 

“Go right Lance, cut off their escape, we can’t let them get away,” he mimics Keith’s last commands in a high pitch voice. “I told him they were planning something, but noooo, no one listens to me. I’m just here to look pretty and shoot things,” he grumbles as he picks his way through the cave, helmet in hand.

The further he goes, the more the stalactites soak up the sound until he finds himself coming out of the hallway of stones and into a large cavern. His light barely pierces through the dark; turning it inky violet as it shimmers with dust motes in the light.

“Whoa,” he mutters as he scans the room. The floor is covered in a few inches of liquid, the stones beneath becoming soft and pliant in the light’s refraction.

Lance shifts and taps his toe against it, waiting to see ripples disappear out into the dark only to watch the ‘water’ quiver only a few inches before the ripples dissipate.

“Weird…” He does it again to the same effect. Lance watches it with a careful eye before skirting around it, seeing if he can find anything else. He just finds more of the thick, jelly-like substance as it surrounds a peninsula of rock. 

“Least it’s quieter in here,” he grumbles. Around him, the thunder is a gentle roar; like hearing a highway from a long ways off. Lance sighs and swings his helmet back towards where he had come in. In the light, he sees a shelf-like area that seems relatively flat near the entrance. “Might as well get comfortable,” he sighs as he heads for it. 

It is decently level, and after a few moments of deliberation, he takes off the outer portions of his armor, leaving him in his dark underclothes as he arranges the chest plate into a makeshift pillow and the rest of it along the back edge of the carved out platform. He settles back against it, the hard metal and stone not what he would call comfortable, but it’s the best he can do.

He holds his helmet between his palms, the lights pointed skyward, and pushes the com button.

“Anyone there?” he asks hopefully.

There’s nothing but static.

“Thought so.” He drops the helmet to his chest and sighs. 

“Guess it’s just me, myself, and I for now,” he murmurs into the cave. He doesn’t even get an echo back. “Or maybe just me.” Lance sets the helmet off to the side, the light still pointing upward, and closes his eyes. 

He’s been stuck in enough places to know how to entertain himself, and that usually means sleeping. Not that it’s hard. After everything with the Galra, and getting Earth up to speed over the last few years, sleep is still a highly coveted commodity. Even on a hard surface with only his chest plate for a pillow, Lance finds himself chasing rest down the rabbit hole of oblivion in moments.

Lance dreams of home. 

He’s laying on the beach, the sun warm on his skin; its rays light the world without blocking out the stars beyond. He sees constellations, millions of them, from all over the universe. Some from home, others he’s seen in star charts, and even more he had created while traveling the star-systems in Red to pass the time. 

They gently drift across the sky; the sun ever focussed in its singular place.

The ocean starts to lap at his side. It’s the slightest chill against his arm at first, just slightly cooler than the rest of him. The wave pushes up against him, licking at first before it starts to come in with the tide. 

He goes to get up, find another part of the beach to sit at, but even when he moves the water clings. 

“The hell?” he grumbles as he turns to look out into the waves. They are soft rolls of deep teal, crystal blues, and deep greens; they do not move, only quiver. As he pulls away, the wave that had lapped at him comes with him, dragging along the rest of the ocean behind it, moving up the side of his neck.

Lance slaps at it, twists, jerks, and curses when his head bashes against something.

Both eyes fly open, his heart in his throat as Lance finds himself pushed up against dark stone, the light around him grey and colorless. His arm is still slightly cool. Lance jerks away from the sensation. There is a sense of gentle suction, but it separates from his arm, and he finds a cold, tingling left in its place.

Lance turns the helmet, aiming light back out into the room, and freezes. The water level has risen. Or, well, the goo level? He really can’t think of the stuff as water with how it ripples toward him. Has he found an underground river? A tidepool? He hadn’t seen anything like an ocean nearby; was it underground?

“Damn it,” he grumbles as he looks at how high it has risen. A good amount of it is slowly oozing onto the low shelf, invading his sleeping space. “Guess I’m moving.” But he doesn’t budge. The goo, while he had pulled away from it easily enough, makes him uneasy. It’s like staring into clear silly putty, though in places he catches flecks of color; glints of silver and gold motes inside.

“Better get out of here before it gets much higher,” he sighs as it keeps oozing toward him. There is still a bit on his arm, which he goes to rub off as he moves to stand. His legs sink into the goop with some amount of resistance, like trying to wade through pudding. It’s only up to his knees, but he realizes that he’s going to have to fight to get to the entrance. 

“This stuff is worse than the food goo,” he grumbles as he tries to push at the stuff on his arm, shifting around in the thick, squelching substance so that he can collect his armor. He won’t be able to put it on now, and he prepares himself to start juggling it. As he reaches for his helmet, a large glob of the goo splatters down onto his arm, startling him. His first reaction is to bat at it, though it doesn’t do much. It just smears down his arm, dripping off of the dark clothing and clinging where it quickly sinks into the alien fabric. 

“Moisture whisking my ass,” he grumbles, though, in reality, he knows how well it does pull moisture from his body. This stuff, however, seeps into and through it, pushing down against his skin in a way that it really shouldn’t be. Heart in his throat, Lance scratches at it, getting some of it under his hails as he searches for any signs of deterioration. Thankfully, there are none.

“Okay, so not acidic; that’s good. It’s just really...goopy. That’s it, just goopy. Super saturated, and it’s too much for the suit to hold back.” It doesn’t make him feel better. The dark cloth has kept him safe from the temperatures of space, dry beneath a sea, so how could it possibly be pushing through? He pushes down at his arm again, squishing down, and watches as the fabric bulges just slightly. He follows the slight bulging with his eyes to his wrist.

“Oh,” he breathes. It isn’t sinking into his clothing at all. It’s getting under it. But, for that to be the case, then it would have to be able to move, and water doesn’t move. Not even strange goopy liquid that is up to his thighs and that is NOT where it was a second ago.

“Shit!” Lance tries to shift in the rising liquid, hands flailing as he finds it almost impossible to move his legs. He barely manages to turn around enough to snag his helmet and turn it out into the room. Lance expects to see the same darkness as before, only with the raising goop-water. Instead, he finds himself staring into thick stalactites of inky violet with fine shimmers of silver and gold swirling inside of the dripping goo; some connect in places to create columns from the floor to ceiling. The pillars of it also don’t seem to be oozing down, but curling upward toward the ceiling.

“What the fuck.” Lance barely hears himself over the heartbeat in his ears. The ceiling above him is the same inky violet, and in a moment he realizes that what he had seen when he first entered wasn’t darkness, but a wall of whatever the hell is dripping down onto him.

Another large amount glops onto his shoulder, making him cry out, and he drops his helmet. It falls with a slight ‘splort’ onto the rising floor as Lance pushes at the new amount of goo. 

“Get off!” he yells, his voice muffled by the ever-encroaching stuff. More falls onto him, and when a large bit falls onto his skull and down the back of his neck, he can feel the way it wriggles under the lip of his suit. 

“NO!” The word is lost on whatever is surrounding him; sucking up his legs and greedily finding its way to his waist. What he had just assumed to be a cool temperature before he realizes is the goo itself having gotten inside the legs of his suit, and as they reach his genitals, he shudders at the sudden, sharp change in temperature. 

“Get out, get out, get out,” he bites as he slaps at the rising, viscous liquid. He makes a jerk toward the entrance, but he can barely move at all from the waist down. More goop falls onto his head, running over one eye and making him cry out in surprise. He swipes at it, but it does almost nothing, only taking off the top layer of the stuff; the rest stays slick and sticky to his skin.

Another expletive threatens to escape him, but he slams his mouth shut, the stuff now coating around his lips. He can feel it searching to get around his other eye as well. Lance lets out a panicked scream through his nose as he feels his legs leave the ground, the substance surging upward and taking him with it. He hangs out of it, legs sucked inside as he pushes at it with his hands, trying to keep from being sucked deeper but only feeling it wrap around his fingers. 

_‘Shit,’_ he screams in his mind as he feels himself being pulled back into one of the columns. _‘Shit, shit, shit!’_ Lance doesn’t stop struggling, as futile as it is. It makes him limbs heavy with lactic acid as he finds it becoming harder and harder to breathe. The substance over his mouth is starting to push up into his nose, and with a burst of adrenaline, he realizes that he’s going to suffocate.

The cry of ‘no’ sits heavy in his throat as he is pulled in; sucked down into the violet sludge. It happens suddenly, as if he is jerked by a monstrous tongue into a creatures maw; leaving him wide-eyed inside whatever the stuff is. Panic floods him; his lungs immediately starved for oxygen after his previous struggles. He can feel the goo around him filling in every gap it can between his suit and skin, pushing up into his nose, his ears, and he realizes against his anus and urethra.

He wants to close his eyes, to at least be able to see pitch dark instead of the sickening violet that is struck through with streaks of light from his helmet. It is impossible, though, his eyelids not strong enough to close against the sludge. 

_‘I’m gonna die,’_ he thinks to himself. _‘After everything, I’m going to be killed by fucking alien silly putty.’_ A laugh bubbles up in his throat, his mind going dark from the lack of oxygen; he cracks a small smile. 

Goo pushes past his lips and teeth in seconds, filling his mouth with a taste that all he can think of as chemically; as if he is breathing in air that had just been sterilized. Beneath it, there is something salty, savory, and just a touch sweet. 

Panic wins out again as he tries to shut his mouth, but the current of the stuff is too much, and it pushes down his throat. Lance’s first instinct is to inhale in preparation to scream. It draws the muck into his lungs, making them spasm and twitch as they are filled with the cool substance. It causes him to shudder, body bucking as he feels it trying to do the same with the rest of him. His sinus cavity fills, the first tendrils of the stuff make it into his ass, and his cock gives a jolt as his urethra is breached and starts to fill. 

If he could cry anymore, he would be sobbing as the world dims, his lungs fighting against the waves of goo to try and find oxygen. Small prayers of goodbye run through his head to his family; confessions to those he loves but couldn’t tell; a plea of forgiveness to Red, and then… then he feels himself filling.

_‘The hell?’_

His eyes swivel gently as he looks inside his prison. The goop around him is still moving, swirling, and he can feel it doing the same in his chest. Only, it is slowly going from a burn and ache to something almost...normal. His lungs can’t deflate at all, the sacks already expanded out to the point that it is almost painful, but he doesn’t feel like he is drowning anymore. Somehow, oxygen is still getting into his bloodstream, circulating inside him. 

A small bud of relief sits in his chest. He’s not going to die, at least, not via suffocation. The bud is killed off as he realizes that he can still feel more of the slime pushing inside of him. It swirls in his throat and chest, with more making its way down into his stomach. From his anus and groin, he can feel it sliding upward into him. A shudder wracks his insides, and his muscles try and clench against the invading substance. It only seems to encourage it, however, and Lance finds his ass spread from the inside out. It suctions to every nerve as it thickens and swirls, pushing him open as wide as his body will let it. It gets him open just enough to burn before more begins to gush into him, thick pulses of slime pushing up inside. A silent groan reverberates through the goo as it fills in past his prostate, swirling over it with gentle currents that send skitters of sensation through his nerves and into the synapses of his brain. 

The slime doesn’t stop there. Instead, it moves in deeper than he can physically feel; until the nerves become deadened and there is nothing but a constant feeling of cool pressure filling inside him. A similar sensation is traveling down his cock, and it isn’t particularly unpleasant. Strange, yes, but mixed with the constant stimulation to his prostate, and friction against his skin, there is little pain as it sends his nerve endings firing. The most uncomfortable thing is the way his bladder expands with the sludge, but even that is overshadowed. 

_‘Oh shit,’_ he thinks to himself as his hips jerk forward on their own, not that they can go anywhere. _‘Shit, shit.’_ The current keeps moving through him, stretching his insides to the point that he can feel himself swelling beneath his skin. The slime that has poured in through his mouth distends his belly just short of painful. Behind his eyes, in his sinus cavity, the slime starts to press. It aches he feels it fill in behind the sockets, squeezing around the soft globes with surprising gentleness; it still hurts. Then he feels a slight pop and shift before a current surrounds his eyes as well. The worst of the pressure disperses, but there is still an ache in the sockets as his eyeballs are partially displaced.

 _‘What is happening?’_ He asks himself as he tries to move them. Lance's eyes can shift, albeit subtly, and mostly go with the flow of the current coming out of him. _‘What does it wa—’_ His brain short circuits for a moment as the current and pressure inside him suddenly all shifts in one direction at once. It becomes one continuous swirl downward; in through his nose, mouth, and around his eyes; down into three vortexes in his lungs and belly; and then a rush through his entire digestive tract only to stream constantly past his prostate and through his hardened cock.

It’s a strange mix of sensation, like continually using the bathroom mixed with a weak orgasm; not quite enough for a full release, but enough pleasure that it makes his head swim from how it doesn’t let up. His body is stretched to almost uncomfortable limits, but not past; as if the slime itself knows just how far it can push him without hurting him. 

He hangs in the goo, mouth open wide by the current constantly slipping down his throat. It doesn’t take long before he goes taste-blind to the stuff, and the discomfort soon subsides into nothing but a dull thrum as his cock and prostate are constantly stimulated. There is a swirl of current right over the head of his dick that combines with the goo escaping his backside, creating a vortex of stimuli over his balls and under his shaft. 

_‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’_ he thinks to himself as he fights the pleasure trying to take over all his other dampened senses. _‘There has to be something in this stuff.’_ He feels strangely floaty, his eyes are no longer able to focus. He tries, his muscles attempting to shift as he forces himself to think past the ever-growing pleasure. The growing euphoria keeps enhancing the lighter his mind gets; the more unfocused. 

_‘It’s okay,’_ he tries to tell himself. _‘I’ll be okay. This is…’_ His mind drifts off as his stares out into a violet nebula of twinkling stars, backlit by golden solar flares as the universe itself caresses and fucks him. His prostate is a thrumming white dwarf, pulsing and screaming with energy; waiting to implode on itself and become a black hole of pleasure and abandon.

_‘This is beautiful.’_

The first time he orgasms, the cum becomes a part of the current, slipping away and out of him to join the stars. It is followed by a swelling in his balls as the slime finds its way into a new home. The additional swirl into his testicles has him silently sobbing; the new internal stimuli adds a new mix to the current around him.

He cums again. And again. Maybe he never really stops. Lance hangs in space, body heavy and nothing all at once as he is swallowed up by stars. The only sound is that of the rushing current in his ears; the blood of the universe, and how it compliments his heartbeat. He watches as galaxies roll by him, backlit by faraway suns. He floats towards them, and some start to grow brighter and brighter until he is almost blinded by the golden glow of a dozen suns. The sound of his heartbeat is mixed with a dull roar of expanding stars and dying nebulas. Pressure pushes against his ankles, his wrists, and he is pulled through space. The current becomes faster, more possessive as it holds onto him, pulling about and sucking around him. 

The roar of the cosmos becomes louder and louder until, “—ot him!” 

Lance finds himself breaching the universe itself, reborn into the light and the hands of what must be gods.

“Jesus, is he alive?” 

Yes, yes he is, he’s just been born.

“He’s got a pulse, but— oh god his eyes. We need to get him _away_ from the main column. Quick! Before it pulls him back in!”

The hands pull him further out, away from the comfort of the nebulous womb. To where, he isn’t sure, and fear shudders through him as he feels the universe slipping from him. 

“Oh my god, is it. Is it in him?”

“Shit, shit!”

“How is he even breathing?”

The panic of the gods makes his heart beat faster, and he thrashes weakly against their grip. The tendrils of the stars agree with him, trying to pull him back.

“Stop panicking. The scan shows this stuff is made of perfluorocarbon.”

“Could you speak English?”

“She means that it’s breathable, Keith.”

Keith, that’s a name he knows. Lance is sure of it. 

“So he’s alright?” The voice belonging to Keith asks.

“For now. I don’t think it wants to hurt him. I think it’s just...feeding off of him.”

“Feeding off of what?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s not good for him. We need to separate him from it. You saw how it reacted to being split at the mouth of the cave. Just keep pulling, and it should let him go.”

“But what if—”

“It’s either that or we take this shit back onto one of the lions, and we are _not_ doing that. The sample already had a high level of bromine; we take what’s left in Lance on the ship and we could poison our air supply.”

“You heard Pidge! Keep pulling!”

Pidge? Lance knows that name for sure. Which god is she? Wisdom? 

“There, look!” Pidge cries out.

“Oh my god.”

The current has shifted. It is no longer one, but two, spreading out from his belly as it pulls out from between his teeth and from his backside. It slips down the space between his suit and skin, leaving him shuddering as he feels his insides start to deflate.

 _‘No, wait. Wait!’_ he screams into his mind, his throat still filled. If they pull him away, how will he breathe? What will fill his lungs? Already he can feel it slipping from them, milliliter by milliliter. His eyes settle back into his sockets; his sinus cavity starts to be vacated. Soon it is only left inside his throat, then his mouth, and then falls from his mouth as a wet glob onto his chest. At first, he doesn’t know what to do; his chest achingly empty as he is pulled away. 

“Lance, breathe for fuck sake!” is shouted next to him, large hands squeezing him. 

His lungs inflate, fill, and then deflate into a broken sob as he feels the last of the universe running out of him. It caresses over his cock, his prostate, and leaves him fully as he orgasms again. A mix of jizz and slime escapes him, sliding down his thighs inside his suit before detaching with an echoing suck. 

“There,” someone pants. “It’s out.”

“Keep going, we don’t want to stop too close to it,” Keith says.

“Agreed.”

With unfocused eyes, Lance watches the violet void get swallowed by the dark, his body empty and aching to be returned. 

“Lance,” the God named Pidge says. “Lance!”

Lance closes his eyes for the first time in what feels like an eternity, his throat trying to work but unable to do more than loosely swallow. 

“Why does he look like that, Hunk?”

“Bromine poisoning,” Hunk replies, and he knows that name too, knows the voice. It helps still his heart; Hunk won’t let this new world hurt him. “Shit, he’s probably hallucinating like crazy.”

“Is it lethal?” The last voice carries an accent to it, familiar and comforting.

“With the dosage from that creature? Possibly,” Pidge murmurs.

“Shit,” Keith hisses.

“I can treat him back on the ship,” she adds.

“Then let’s go.”

“What about Red?” 

“We’ll come back for Red later, Allura. Right now we need to get him home.”

 _‘Home.’_ The word echoes in Lances head. He likes the sound of that. 

Lance lets the Gods carry him on new waves; moving ones that crash onto a golden beach with a sky full of familiar constellations.

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was a trip, now wasn't it?


End file.
